St Frances With an E
by 55below
Summary: Victoria's compassion, Blue's conviction and Buck's enthusiasm confront John's skepticism and Mano's reluctance in this light hearted, bittersweet tale of possibility, probability and a remarkable little bird.
1. Chapter 1

Short and sweet.

Exactly the words John Cannon liked to think of when it came to visiting Casa Montoya and dealing with Don Sebastian . Although he paid a buck fifty a head more than he wanted, John still got the hundred yearlings and weaned calves he would need to replenish the herds after the ranch's latest sale to the Army. He wanted young stock and he got them. Seventy head now, with the promise of thirty more within ninety days. Sam, Reno and two new men, Gibbons and One-Eyed Riley, would stay for a few days and lead the first seventy up to the south end of the Chaparral, where they could take advantage of the spring growth and water until the remaining thirty were ready to join the herd. The drovers would be one man short. Word had reached Casa Montoya that Pedro's father was very ill and John told him to head home, and to take as much time as needed. Four men, he thought, would be enough manpower. Both of the new men knew which end of a cow held the tail. They'd be fine.

John popped the reins and the wagon jumped forward as Victoria waved and shouted good byes to Don Sebastian and his servants. Mano tipped his hat toward the Old Lion before trotting out in front of the wagon.

" Oh, John," smiled Victoria, "It is such a beautiful day to be traveling. The air is cool and the sun not too hot. I do love the spring."

John returned the smile and nodded in agreement. "So do I, Victoria. Best keep that parasol handy, though. That sun can creep up on you, if you're not careful. We'll be home a bit quicker this time. These two, " he said, nodding toward the chestnut mare and the gelding pulling the wagon, " are really pulling well. You'd think they'd made this trip before."

The two year olds were Chaparral's own, bred from two solid working mares and a stud John had rescued from a rancher who'd gone belly-up. It was Buck's idea to get the sire and John had to agree that the pairings with his mares were a success. Good, solid working stock, the backbone of any operation. Judging horses was one arena where the brothers Cannon saw eye to eye.

Victoria routinely checked the contents of the wagon as they traveled, something she always did, making sure the trunks and boxes of fruit, the smoked hams , the crates of eggs and various other items she purchased from Casa Montoya remained cinched in place and were not bouncing around. Today, John noticed, she seemed to look back far more often than usual. As casually as he could, he turned and looked to see what might be drawing his wife's attention. Everything seemed in order, everything riding nicely.

Victoria continued to check the load frequently. At length, John had to ask, "Alright, Victoria, what is back there that has you so interested?"

She jumped at the question. "Well, what do you mean, John?"

'You've been looking back there every five minutes. " he responded.

John turned back and eyed the contents carefully. As before, everything seemed in order. The only unusual item was a smallish woven box which he couldn't recall loading. The weaving on the box was spaced to allow air to pass through. As John's eyes focused on the box, he saw something move inside. He sighed and faced back to the trail.

Slowly he asked, "Victoria, what ..is..in..the..box?"

" Which box?" she replied, innocently.

"You know which box. The box with an animal in it."

The gig was up. Victoria released a puffy sigh. "It is a pigeon, John. A pigeon with a broken wing."

 _"What?_ " There was a lengthy pause. "Why on earth would you be rescuing a pigeon?" demanded John, more surprised than angry.

"Pepe was loading the hams from the smokehouse when a hawk scattered the pigeons in the couryard. This one flew into the big window of the dining room and broke his wing. I could not let the big bird come back and kill him."

"Its a _pigeon_ , Victoria, a stupid pigeon." John could see Victoria stiffen as soon as his comment was made.

" The pigeon is a very intelligent animal , John Cannon." she spurted.

"Well how smart is a bird who tries to fly through a plate glass window ?" he countered.

"The pigeon can recognize itself in a mirror. I'll bet you did not know that. Did you know that, John Cannon?" The response was equal parts petulance and resolve.

"No " he drawled, lowly, not wishing to have the situation escalate. " I did not know this. I've never considered it. It's just a pigeon. "

"To you it is just a pigeon. In God's eyes..."

 _Oh, no,_ John groaned. Whenever Victoria played the "God's eyes" card, he knew he would be fighting a losing battle. Mano, who had been riding alongside the wagon, heard the same warning and gave Mackadoo a quick kick. A good time to ride up ahead, he realized.

"...he is equal to all other creatures. God made sure I was there to see St. Francis get injured. Why do you thnk that is ?"

"Because you were visiting Casa Montoya?" John responded, still a bit baffled by this turn of events. 'There are dozens of these things down there. They get killed all of the time. And who is St Frankencense?."

"St. Francis, John," she corrected. " St Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals. He is the namesake of this bird."

John resisted the urge to ask the name of the patron saint of lost causes. Victoria would claim that title at the Chaparral except brother Buck beat her to it. John just shook his head.

" I have no interest in having pigeons flying around the High Chaparral, crapping on everything in sight, like at Casa Montoya. We have enough going on there as it is. Wouldn't you agree?"

" Oh, John. You need not worry. When St. Francis' wing has healed, I will release him and he will fly back home." Victoria was now smiling. She was slowly gaining the upper hand.

'Do you honestly believe this bird will make it back to Casa Montoya?" John queried, his head tilted, an eyebrow raised.

'I told you, John, the pigeon is a very intelligent animal. They can always find their way home, even from great distances."

"Intelligence isn't the issue here, Victoria." he answered. " There are hawks, eagles, ravens; not to mention cats, humans, the weather. That little bird doesn't stand a chance, I'm sorry to tell you that."

"I will bet you, John. I will bet you one dollar that St. Francis will return to Rancho Montoya." she confidently responded.

Her optimism in the face of such long odds made John smile. "You have a deal, Mrs. Cannon." he said, holding out his hand. As she shook it, he remembered something.

" There is a nice bird cage out behind the bunkhouse, Victoria. It belonged to Annalee for her canaries. After she passed , the birds just withered away. There was nothing Blue or I could do to save them. They didn't want to live without her, I guess. Blue has never said so, but I think he buried them out with her."

'Are you sure, John? Are you sure Blue wouldn't mind?"

John chuckled. " Just try to stop him. If he can help an injured animal, I think you know by now, he'll do anything it takes. The boy's always been a bit partial to birds, anyway. Your biggest problem might be keeping him out of your way."

Victoria giggled, an ear to ear smile on her face. She thought of the wager and smiled the smile of possibility.

Likewise, John smiled as he thought of their wager. His was the smile of probability.


	2. Chapter 2

As John could've predicted, St Francis of Montoya was the first box removed from the wagon. Victoria hurried the little bird out to the shade of the outdoor kitchen while John and Mano hauled the larger trunks into the house . Blue and Joe took the hams and eggs down to the cellar. Within ten minutes the promising young wagon team was in the corral, getting a well deserved brush down, John working the mare, Buck, the gelding. They had performed admirably and John was extremely pleased. He was in a good mood.

The two men spoke with a comtained optimism about future pairings. Buck and Mano's ranch would base its existence on quality horses, and if these youngsters were any indication of things to come, the C- bar- M might become a real player in this neck of the west. The demand for quality stock was never higher and it wasn't going to drop off any time soon.

The brothers had just finished the horses and were leaning with their arms resting on the top rail of the corral when Buck asked, " John, what is that Blue Boy has in his arms?"

John turned his head to see Blue carrying a dusty, cobweb-covered, iron birdcage from behind the bunkhouse.

"Oh, no" grunted John. He had completely forgotten about his promise to Victoria concerning Annalee's old cage. Obviously his omission wasn't about to get in her way. That she would approach Blue with this request, to retrieve his mother's cage, told John that the relationship between his son and his second wife was growing. He could also tell, by Blue's body language, that he had bought into her plan completely. John wasn't surprised.

"Its Annalee's old birdcage, Buck. The one she had those canaries in."

"What's he be needin' a birdcage for, Big John?"

"Its not for him. Its for Victoria. She ..." John looked down at the ground, "...rescued a pigeon with a broken wing from Casa Montoya and thinks she can fix it."

" A _pigeon?"_ asked Buck. "Why'd she wanna do that?"

"Because she's Victoria, I suppose. She thinks she'll heal that bird and send it on its way back to Casa Montoya." John chuckled. "I've got a one dollar bet with her that the bird never makes it."

Buck leaned his back against the rails and pushed up the brim of his hat. "Well, I wouldn't be countin' on that dollar necessarily, John. During the war, when we was at Antietam, there was this skinny little private from Virginia who raised pigeons. He told Major General Hill that them birds alway returned home to roost, so Hill let him keep a few at the camp. When Burnside tried to take the stone bridge at Antietam , that kid released one of the birds he was carryin' with a note on its leg, and it flew all the way back to Harper's Ferry. Next thing ya know, Hill comes chargin' in with a whole division and turned Burnside back. General Lee himself heard about it and was comin' to see the kid but the kid got killed before Lee got there. I'll tell ya, John , them birds can be pretty amazin'."

"Honestly, " John replied, "It wouldn't bother me at all to see St. Francis make it home."

"St Francis ?" Buck laughed. "Victoria's already got a name for it , huh?"

John just nodded, a hint of resignation on his face

_…_…_…_…_…_

-After dinner Blue and Victoria attended to the Chaparral's newest guest. The cage was cleaned and fresh straw was laid in the bottom. Blue placed a small towel over the pigeon's head, which calmed it, and held the little bird still as Victoria carefully set the bone. Once she was satisfied, she tucked the wing tightly against the bird's body and wrapped a thin muslin bandage numerous times, securing the broken wing. Blue gently placed the pigeon in the cage before removing the towel. St. Francis seemed none the worse for wear once he realized he couldn't fly with only one good wing. He sipped some water from the small bowl in the cage and ate one of the grasshoppers Blue had caught out in the chaparral.

It pleased John to see Victoria and Blue work together. They were both wholly committed to the project and John knew enough to keep his reservations to himself.

For the next few days the crew recieved updates on the welfare of the little guest with each meal. He was eating heartily, acting spry. On the third day, however, Victoria said nothing about St Francis as the men ate breakfast. For some reason though, she seemed overly cheerful, thought John. She was laughing at everyone's jokes, jumping up from her seat to keep everyone's coffee cup filled, doting on him a bit much.

"Victoria?" John asked strongly. "Is there something I need to know?"

Victoria smiled . "No, my husband, " she tittered, "but there is something you need to see!"

Grabbing the big man by the hand, she led him out the back door to the outdoor kitchen. She walked over to the cage where St Francis rested on the fresh hay bed. As Blue, Buck, Mano and John watched, Victoria opened the cage and gently lifted the pigeon. The men flinched at what they saw.

Two white eggs.

John reared back his head and laughed. "Well, Victoria, it looks like you'll need to find a new name for St. Francis."

"Oh no, John," she giggled. "It is still St. Frances, St. Frances with an 'E'!"


	3. Chapter 3

As could be imagined, Victoria, Blue and Buck were excited about the surprise they had received that morning. The two men wholly endorsed the new moniker of the little mother- to- be, "St. Frances with an E." Buck found it especially amusing and repeated it enough times to where it was starting to get on John's nerves. John held his tongue, though , as well as his thoughts on the subject.

Mano followed John's lead, not quite understanding the fuss over a pigeon. This type of thing, helping an injured animal, was so very typical of Victoria. Once, when she was six years old, she walked into the Casa Montoya holding a baby skunk. It was the fastest he had ever seen his father move, getting the little stinker out of the house before it could express itself. Then there was the time she came home holding a coyote pup with a broken leg. Her arms showed numerous bite marks and scratches from the wild yip-dog, but Victoria was determined to heal the pup whether it liked it or not. To her credit, and over Don Sebastian's objections, she did exactly that, splinting the broken leg and releasing the coyote once it healed. All things considered, St. Frances with an E was hardly a surprise.

That evening, after dinner, Victoria withdrew a volume of the encyclopedia which had been a wedding present from Don Sebastian. Victoria read the section on pigeons aloud, translating the Spanish for Blue and Buck. Several days later, Blue returned from Tucson with a smile and a book, a book on pigeons. It had been sitting on the shelf of the general store since the day the business opened. They were glad to finally get rid of it and Blue was happy to be the one to help.

Seventeen days after St. Francis became St. Frances with an E, the eggs cracked and two of the homeliest creatures John Cannon could remember ever seeing, greeted the family. " Squabs, " Blue called them.

Victoria was beside herself with joy, the contagious kind, which infected everyone, even John. "If a man can't enjoy seeing new ones join this world," he told Victoria, "he has no business being in this line of work." John meant it. A newborn calf, the scent of a fresh foal, a litter of blind, wiggling pups, all brought out a side of him Victoria cherished.

" Victoria ? " asked Blue."Do you think its it's time to see if she can fly? She'll be needing to feed those babies."

" I was just thinking the same thing, Blue. Will you help me?"

Blue didn't need to be asked twice. As Victoria opened the cage, Blue reached in and gently removed St. Frances. Grasping her firmly, he held her out as Victoria unwound the muslin bandage. The bird flapped both wings as Blue set her down on the ground. Immediately, the pigeon flew off.

Victoria clasped her hands together and then held them to her face. John reached out and took her in his arms as all the men cheered the little bird. They watched St. Frances fly around the corner of the house, only to return several minutes later with a small grasshopper in her mouth. She gobbled down the insect and began to tend to her young. Letting each squab take a turn feeding from her beak , St Frances with an E showed she was clearly prepared for the task at hand.

"She will be a good mother , John. You will see." Victoria predicted.

"She already is," John replied, as he pulled her closer."She already is."


	4. Chapter 4

The squabs grew at a remarkable pace, seeming to double in size every few days. Occasionally, breakfast would be served on the back porch to allow the family to watch St. Frances come and go. The squab's little squeaks and chirps drew Buck's interest and he learned to mimic their sound so well he could get St Frances to land on his shoulder. Buck always declined the offer of fresh grasshopper the bird seemed to be offering.

For John, his reluctance to have a pigeon at the Chaparral waned. St. Frances required little maintenance from the ranch itself; no manpower, no materials, no resources. The nest didn't stink, the birds weren't overly noisy and they never got in his way. Blue and Victoria attended to the bird's needs every evening after work and their shared interest in the pigeons pleased the big man. It wasn't until the week after the squabs emerged that he was asked to contribute to their welfare.

St. Frances and the _ninos,_ Victoria informed him, would require a larger cage.

"I'll build it," offered Blue. "There are a couple diagrams in my book. Sam said he's willing to help. He can build anything, Pa. You know that."

"Not so fast" cautioned John. "I've had no issue with St. Frances with an E, so far. It hasn't cost this ranch a penny and that's how I'd like to keep things. I'm not about to spend ranch money on a pigeon."

"You don't have to," Victoria stated. "We have the wood and...I happen to know we have chicken wire in the barn." There was a bit of a barb in her last comment and John felt its sting.

Yes, he had promised Victoria that he would build a chicken coop for her when he got time and, yes, he had purchased chicken wire to do so. Yet, he had put off the construction of the coop for over a year. He didn't really want chickens, although Victoria's desire to have them made good economical sense. Truth be told, John hated chickens. He'd had to tend to the family's flock of chickens as a boy. They were smelly, messy and stupid. Then, there was that ill- tempered rooster who had spiked him and threatened him every time he went to get the eggs. John much preferred to buy eggs by the crate from Tucson, or from the Rancho Montoya, even if it was more expensive.

He could see that Victoria was offering him an olive branch; a modest pigeon cage in return for a chicken coop he didn't want to build. He liked the deal. The pigeons would be gone in a few weeks and the chicken coop could be forgotten for another year or two ...or forever.

" OK, Blue," he said, looking at Victoria. "You and Sam build that thing but you need to build it around back of the house. We can't be having birds living where we cook and eat. Summer's coming .We'll be out there a lot."

Victoria's face held a coy smile. She had played her cards well. John? He had won an argument while losing an argument at the same time. He rose. All he wanted to do at that moment was get back to cattle ranching.

With Blue's book opened, Sam and the youngest Cannon followed the diagrams and built the coop in one evening. It sat four feet off of the ground and had two separate chambers. The squabs would be venturing from the nest any day and the new coop allowed them room to move. St. Frances would be able to come and go from her half of the cage and enter the squabs side from an opening too high for the young ones to reach.

Victoria took a shallow woven basket from the kitchen and carefully removed the nest with the _ninos_ from the cage. She placed the basket in the new home atop some fresh hay as St Frances watched from her perch atop Buck's shoulder. The larger bird trusted Victoria with her young ones and seemed to respond to the woman's touch. She liked being held by the one who had saved her. They had a bond, Blue told Victoria. The comment made the woman blush. It was a sweet thing for him to say.

Within two weeks the squabs were out of the nest, walking around. Three weeks later they were beginning to flap their wings. The feathers were growing out and the _ninos_ were as large as their mother. Blue and Victoria knew it was time to open the door on the young ones' side. They would take to flight any day.

'Any day' turned out to be the next day.

Victoria was noticeably upset at breakfast. She faced Blue with an almost apologetic look. "I'm afraid I have some terrible news, " she began. "St. Frances with an E and the _ninos_ are... I went out to check on them this morning and... and they are gone. I did not shut the doors on the cage too well, I am afraid, and they got out. I am so very sorry."

Blue's face fell, the news hitting him hard. He quickly rose from the table and went out to the back porch. Buck rose to follow but John grabbed his arm. "Best sit, Buck," he told his brother. "Blue won't want any company."

Buck returned to his seat and the four family members sat in silence until Blue burst back into the kitchen, a wide smile on his face. " They're back, Victoria! St. Frances with an E is in her cage and the _ninos_ are in theirs. She just took them out to learn to fly!"

Victoria squealed with delight as everyone, save big John, rushed out to see the birds. John sipped his coffee, a wry smile on his face. Within a few days, or a week, St Frances with an E would lead the young ones south and never be heard from again. He wouldn't have to build that chicken coop and the whole pigeon episode would soon be forgotten. They had been little trouble, he thought, and had brought some excitement to the Chaparral. Not a bad thing , all in all. John Cannon was pleased.


	5. Chapter 5

Over dinner, John learned that his hoped- for timetable of one week until the departure of St. Frances with an E was overly optimistic. Blue's book had told him it was entirely possible the mother might be inclined to head back "home" before the _ninos_ were mature enough to keep up with her. The plan, as John understood it, was the mother bird would not be allowed to be fly the coop while the youngsters matured. In two weeks, give or take, St Frances with an E would be given the opportunity to lead her charges to Mexico.

Blue and Buck took a larger interest in the younger birds at this point, often taking one or the other ever farther from the ranch where they would release it and race the bird back to the house. The two grown men were as giddy as boys over the increased abilities of the _ninos._ The pigeons flew straight back to the coop each and every time. Ten days after St. Frances with an E was sequestered, the two partners in crime approached John with a plan.

" I know you want us to go to Big Pond and check the water levels and the corrals tomorrow, John," Buck began. "How would you like that information by lunch time instead of waiting until dinner when we get back?"

"Well, I'd prefer it, of course. I can't make any plans until I know what the water level is, and the quality of the feed."

Blue and Buck looked at each other. Blue spoke. "We've run this by Victoria and she likes this idea. We're going to take the _ninos_ with us, Pa. Victoria is making up two little baskets they can ride in. When we get there, we'll write down what we find and send the birds back with the information. They'll get here hours before we will. Half a day faster."

" Yeah," chimed in Buck. "We'll turn 'em loose about ten minutes apart. If one of 'em don't make it, the other one will."

John liked the idea. Outside of a few pigeons he could live without, he had nothing to lose. " Sounds good to me, " he told them. "Just don't get your hopes up too high, Blue. There's a lot of ground between Big Pond and here, if you know what I mean."

"He knows, John. He's no kid." Buck put his hand on Blue's shoulder. "C'mon Blue Boy, let's go see how Victoria's coming along with them baskets."

As the two walked away, Buck turned back to John. "Them birds are gunna do it, Big John." he smiled. "You just wait and see!"

* * *

Blue and Buck headed out to Big Pond right after breakfast. The _ninos_ rode in cloth bottomed 'cages' Victoria had fashioned from an old woven straw basket. The cages rode on opposite ends of a leather strap which looped behind Blue's neck. He wore a light cotton pancho in order to protect the birds from the sun. Victoria watched them go, a smile of hope on her face.

The smile was even bigger and brighter when Blue and Buck rode back through the gates of the High Chaparral at sunset.

John and Victoria were standing out past the edge of the porch.

"Well, I hear the water is high and the graze is healthy," boomed Big John with a grin."I understand that big mulie buck still likes to come in for a drink every morning!"

Buck and Blue jumped from their saddles, the older man giving the younger one a big handshake as they laughed out loud.

"Did they both..." Blue began.

"Yes, Blue !" blurted Victoria , as she hugged him. "Both _ninos_ returned, ten minutes apart!"

Buck let out a whoop as he slapped John on the back. The older brother smiled widely.

"Let's get these horses taken care of. We've got some things to discuss over dinner.

_…_

It was hard to get a word in edgewise at the Cannon table that night.

" Think of it, John!" blurted Buck, leaning over his dinner plate. "It'd be like havin' our own Pony Express! We could have a bunch of them birds, and little cages out at the cow camps and the line shacks. All a fella would have to do is pack a couple birds every time he went out."

"You see, Pa?' chimed in Blue. " If a hand gets hurt , or if he loses his horse, we could know this in a matter of hours, not days."

"Yeah, " Buck added. "And what about Apaches? Or commancheros stealin' stock, big brother?"

"When I go to Tucson, I could let you know if I need more help," offered Victoria.

"Or you could be informed that I might be detained," smiled Mano.

"The last thing I want to hear is that I need to send a bigger wagon to Tucson," objected John. "And I don't need a little bird to tell me _you_ will be spending the night in town." His gaze was directed at Mano, who laughed at the response.

"Me an' Blue got us a plan here, Mano." said Buck. " We want to set up a breedin' outfit at the C-bar-M, right ? Well, we could do the same thing with these birds. Find out which ones is the fastest and smartest and breed 'em . Pretty soon we'd have the best birds in Arizona. The dumb ones and the slow ones will get weeded out quick enough, and 'course we'll lose a good one from time to time, but we could learn a thing or two from these birds and not have to wait a year or two to see if we did things right, like with a horse."

"He's right, Mano." added Blue. "My book shows how to set up and manage a flock. We could have the results in just a few months. There's a lot we could learn from pigeons. They're smart birds." Blue turned to John. " Did you know that a pigeon can recognize itself in a mirror, Pa?"

.John sat back in his chair . "Yes," he responded, flatly. "A little bird once told me that."

Victoria sat up sraighter than usual and shot John a slightly smug smile.

"Well, amigo, whaddya think?" Buck continued, still looking at Mano.

Mano leaned back as he tried to deflect the question. Mano didn't care for pigeons for many of the same reasons Big John didn't like chickens. The young Manolito had grown up with pigeons at Casa Montoya. Far too many times he had been given the unenviable task of cleaning their droppings and feathers from the furniture and tiles of the back courtyard of his home. He really had no desire to ever do it again.

" I believe it is John's decision to make, Buck," was the diplomatic answer. "This is a cattle ranch, _si?_ Not a pigeon farm. There is no guarantee that the little ones will survive for long."

"He's right," added John. "I think we might be getting ahead of ourselves here a little bit, but I've gotta admit, Blue, I was very impressed with what I saw today. Let's sleep on this one tonight. We'll have the answer tomorrow."


	6. Chapter 6

"How long has Pedro been gone?" was the question which greeted Blue, Mano, and Buck the following morning.

"He was with us at Casa Montoya when he heard about his father," began Mano.

"And it was abut a week before he came back and spelled Sam with that herd of seventy down on the southern range," added Buck.

"That's right, Pa. I think it was about a month before I went down there to let Pedro know his father passed. I was there about a week before he came back. He's been there ever since."

" That's what I was thinking." began John. "That's almost three months. I owe Pedro an apology. I didn't realize it had been that long. Here's what I'm thinking, boys. Mano, I've got a bank draft for that last thirty head and I need to get it to Don Sebastian. I also want to get Pedro up here for a while before we bring the whole hundred up to Big Pond. I'm going to send you down , Mano, and on the way you can stop off at the camp and tell Pedro to head home."

"As for the birds," he continued, looking directly at his wife, "It's now or never for St. Frances with an E, Victoria. She makes it, or she doesn't. Do you think she'll know which direction to go?"

'" Oh, yes, my husband," came the response, in a tone which held some doubt.

"She'll be ready, Pa," Blue confidently answered. "The _ninos_ are fully grown. They're just two other pigeons to her now. She'll want to fly home to the Rancho in Mexico."

"Good, boy. We'll turn her loose in the morning before Mano leaves," John proposed. "Then we'll have Mano carry the _ninos_ with him to Casa Montoya where he can turn them loose. If even one of them makes it back to the Chaparral, I'll commit the resources to set up that breeding program. Blue, it'll be up to you and Buck and Victoria. Now, if none of the birds return," he paused, touching Victoria's arm, "we'll move on from this idea... Agreed?"

Buck was the first to rise and shake John's hand, followed by Blue. Victoria also rose. "And when St. Frances with an E returns with the _ninos_ , you will owe me three more dollars," she laughed.

"If even one of them returns, I'll give you three dollars, Victoria."

'You have a deal, John Cannon." she smiled, shaking Big John's hand.

"What is wrong, Manolito?" she asked. "You do not appear happy."

He had been surprisingly quiet thus far.

"I am not unhappy, Victoria, but the idea of carrying two pigeons all the way to Mexico...well you know what they do. I have spent my last minute cleaning up after them in the courtyard. I do not wish to do the same with my clothes."

Blue laughed. "Don't worry, Mano. I had it happen yesterday. Victoria puts some cloth in the bottom of the cage. You just hold the bird, pull out the dirty cloth and put down a fresh one. It's easy."

Mano looked warily at the four people seated at the table. "If word ever gets out, " he warned, shaking his finger at them, "that Manolo Montoya changed the diapers of a pigeon, I will know where the information came from."

"Don't worry, amigo." Buck replied in a comforting tone. 'We won't say a peep...peep...peep...peep."

Mano was unable to join the raucous laughter of the family Cannon.

* * *

St. Frances with an E fidgeted in Victoria's hands as the woman talked to her in soothing tones. The bird's left leg was colored a bright red, the boldest color of fingernail polish Victoria owned.

With a smooth sweep, Victoria lofted the pigeon skyward and St. Francis with an E shot off towards the Mexican border.

" _Via con Dios"_ the woman shouted as John put his arm around her.

"Good luck, St. Frances with an E," shouted Buck.

"Godspeed, lil' one ," added Buck.

Several minutes later the reluctant bird courier departed. He was carrying the tandem cages Victoria had made as well as the light cotton pancho Blue wore. He had far to go and wasted little time with goodbyes.

Mano made good time. By early afternoon he was near the valley which lead to the south camp. He hadn't ridden far before he saw a cowpoke herding a solitary animal. When Mano got closer he could see it was the one they called 'One Eyed Riley'. Mano hailed the young cow hand.

Riley smiled when he recognized Mano. He was a good kid, Mano thought. The black eye patch made him appear far more sinister than he was. He was actually quite agreeable, a good campmate. That he was out hustling mavericks to add to the existing herd spoke well of him. A good worker.

Mano asked Riley to relay the message to Pedro. The young man was more than happy to carry the news and this chance meeting reduced Mano's saddle time by several hours. With a push, he knew he could make Casa Montoya shortly before dark, which is exactly what he did.


	7. Chapter 7

Mano rode at a brisk pace as the early morning coolness slowly started to give way to the heat of the rising sun. He had a smile on his face, a song in his heart.

'To whom do I tell the good news first?" he asked himself. "Who should be the first to know that St Frances with a E was feeding with her old friends in the back courtyard when I arrived?"

Mano had gone to there before he ever entered the Casa Montoya and let out a loud yell when he saw the red- legged bird. Ruiz had been among the first to join the prodigal son and when he heard the story, and saw the _ninos_ underneath the pancho, he scurried out to the barn and produced a carrying cage for the young birds.

Ruiz was captivated by Mano's tale. He knew a lot about pigeons and the fact didn't really surprise Mano. Ruiz had a way with all animals.

"The homing instinct is strong in that one." he said, pointing at St. Frances. "Not one in fifty would be able to do what she has done. If Victoria is lucky, the _ninos_ will have the same drive. They are dull colored, like their mother. They will not draw attention from the hawks like some of these others." He pointed at several white and brown splotchy , striped birds.

Ruiz helped Mano place his passengers in the new cage, and watched as the other pigeons circled and investigated the new arrivals. Based on their behaviors , it seemed clear to Mano that the _ninos_ and St Frances remembered each other.

" If the young ones leave tomorrow, " Ruiz told Mano, "Your St. Frances might volunteer to go along. I've seen it before. Your young ones may wish to stay here, as well."

Mano wouldn't learn the answer until after he returned to the Chaparral, having instructed Ruiz to wait several hours before releasing the birds. There was an off-hand chance, he and Ruiz agreed, that the _ninos_ might use his scent, and that of Mackadoo, as a guide.

"I will tell Blue first" thought Mano. " He has worked so hard on this project and it couldn't have happened without him. No... maybe I will tell Buck first. He can keep a ...no. no. no, not Buck. Victoria, of course, it must be Victoria! Without her , none of this happens..."

The miles fell away under Mano's saddle as he bounced the possibilities around in his mind. His final course of action, he decided, would be to say nothing after he arrived. He would act stoically and tell everyone, sadly, that they would need to wait until dinner to find out. At dinner he would say to John, "Big John, I ran into an old friend of your's at Casa Montoya. She has two wings and a red leg. She tells me her name is St. Frances, with an E."

Mano laughed out loud at the thought. There was always the possibility that she would be at the Chaparral when he arrived, but Mano doubted it. Perhaps one or both of the _ninos..._

The afternoon was fading as Mano approached the verdant little waterhole where the Chaparral hands often camped when traveling between the big ranches. He could smell the smoke from a campfire. He approached cautiously.

' _Hola._ Anyone there? _Amigos?"_

'Mano, is that you?"

The voice was Pedro's.

* * *

Pedro couldn't be happier to be heading back to the Chaparral. He was beginning to think John Cannon had forgotten about him completely. Big John would be pleased to learn that his herd of seventy animals now numbered eighty- seven. The kid, Riley, was turning out to be a top hand. More than half of the mavericks in the herd were the doing of the young vaquero. Pedro smiled as he left the cow camp, not bothering to look back.

Several times that morning Pedro's gaze fell upon the butt stock of the beautiful little shotgun he had carefully tied to the saddle. It had been his father's pride and joy, a Spanish made , small gauge, double barrelled beauty which had taken several years for his father to pay off. It had provided countless meals for the family through the years, and now, it was his to feed and care for. There were several boxes of brass hulls in his saddle bags and one box of unfired rounds. He would reload the spent cases once he returned to the Chaparral.

Several hours after leaving Riley and Gibbons, Pedro pulled over to a small water hole to allow his horse a chance to rest, and drink. As he dismounted, he saw two plump doves flying his direction. Moving quickly, he withdrew the shotgun from its scabbard as the birds neared. With two shots, the birds fell from the sky. Unable to suppress a loud 'whoop', Pedro rushed to where the birds had dropped. To his surprise the birds weren't doves at all, they were pigeons.

Pedro looked around. _What were these two doing way out here_? he wondered. The birds were a common site in his village, but he had never known of them to venture so far from home. Pedro shrugged as he cleaned the birds. Pigeon was good eating, his mother had served pigeon often during hard times. It was nothing one bragged of, but it beat going hungry.

 _Providence,_ smiled Pedro, as he remounted. The Good Lord had presented him with this offering and he would be the one favored with its bounty, not the hawks nor the ravens. Had he been on the horse, rather than on the ground, the two birds would have passed him without incident.

The trail back to the Cannon ranch led Pedro past a small oasis which he and the other hands had used many times before. It was only about four o'clock, but Pedro decided it was a good place to spend the night. Within an hour the horse was secured and Pedro had a nice small cooking fire going. He skinned the birds out past where the horse was tied and suspended them above the hot coals. The _frijoles_ were soon simmering as Pedro mixed a little water with the masa in his serving bowl. He was beginning to shape it into tortillas when he heard a voice.

" _Hola !_ Anyone there? _Amigos?"_

Pedro was reaching for his pistol when a smile crept to his lips.

"Mano, is that you?"

Mano burst into the copse of cottonwoods with a large smile on his face. "Pedro! _Amigo! Hola! Como estas!"_

The two men hugged briefly as Mano held Pedro at arm's length. "You are a sight for sore eyes, my friend! We have much to discuss."

" _Si, si_ , Mano! take care of your horse. I will have dinner ready soon."

Mano gazed to the firepit where the frijoles were steaming and the two birds were gently browning.

'Quail?" asked Mano.

"Um.. _si, si, Mano,_ fresh quail! I shot them this morning." Mano didn't need to know the truth , Pedro realized. The Montoyas, undoubtedly, had never tasted pigeon. What Mano didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

'Ah, compadre, we are but dirty, tired vaqueros, yet, tonight, we shall dine like kings!" Mano exclaimed, with great flourish.

As Pedro surmised, Mano had no idea the meat he ate wasn't quail. He liked it and that was all that mattered until... until Mano began to tell the story of St. Frances with an E, of the injured pigeon who became a mother at the High Chaparral, of the _ninos_ , of the transportation of the young ones to Casa Montoya, of the hope they might return to the place of their birth. Pedro was beginning to feel a bit sick to his stomach as the story unfolded.

He thought of the moment when he shot the birds. They were, in fact, coming from the south, heading north. They were dull colored, not unlike the doves which Pedro has mistaken them for. There was no doubt, the lanky cowhand realized, that he had personally killed the dreams of his friends. Buck, Blue, and the always kind Victoria, would never need to know the truth, he vowed. That the _ninos_ would return to the Chaparral, in the stomachs of her brother and himself, was a bet _Senora_ Cannon didn't need to know she won.

Pedro casually rose from the ground and walked toward his horse. He needed to bury the pigeon's heads and feathers before Mano could see them.

" Pedro," shouted Mano, "Bring your Papa's shotgun when you return. I would very much like to see it."

Pedro complied, but not before kicking sand over the incriminating remains of the two birds.

" _Eso es muy bonito!"_ admired Mano as he aimed the little smoothbore. "A man cannot miss with such a fine weapon!"

Sadly, Pedro nodded in agreement.

* * *

 _I think it's fair to assume that John wasn't thinking of Pedro when he tried to temper Victoria's hopes concerning St. Frances and the ninos. Whether you have two wings or two feet, this country will fight you every step of the way. There are many who never survive it. Yet...I prefer to think of Victoria's return visits to Casa Montoya for the years following this tale, of the reunion of two who have survived. If a pigeon can, in fact, recognize itself in a mirror, then it can tell one human from another. I have no doubt that St. Frances would remember her friends and, especially, her benefactress. Who knows, maybe St. Frances served Buck fresh grasshoppers, too!_

 _Thank you to all who have shared this little journey with me. Your comments are so very welcomed._

.


End file.
